


Envisage

by pierrot



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierrot/pseuds/pierrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sho navigates life with Jun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envisage

**Author's Note:**

> I never in a million years expected to write domestic fic, let alone domestic Sakumoto fic, but I felt oddly inspired after seeing [this](http://jiimama.tumblr.com/post/146551564140/ship-graphic-sakumoto-cellphone-requested-by) lovely graphic.
> 
> Rated T for sexual references and, like, one sentence of dirty talk.

It takes him weeks of hesitating to build the courage to ask. He isn’t sure why it’s always the ultimately inconsequential matters that he still struggles with, but Sho has that particular talent for overthinking himself into uncertainty.  
  
Before he finally has a chance to, Jun beats him to the punch.  
  
“Why do you take so many pictures of yourself? They’re not very good.”  
  
Jun had taken Sho’s phone during the breakfast they shared after Sho had spent a little too long fidgeting with it instead of putting it away. Long fingers reached across the table to lift it straight from Sho’s hands with a casual possessiveness, as if there was no need to ask any kind of permission before jumping into a careful scrutiny of Sho’s camera roll.  
  
Sho frowns. “They’re fine.”  
  
His phone is now being unceremoniously shoved back in his face, the display showing a selfie he took on a recent work trip. His face glares at him from the bottom corner of the screen, overexposed and awkwardly cut off by the edge of the frame. Not one of his finer efforts.  
  
He’d sent the photo to Jun at the time, but only received a question about when he was coming home in response.  
  
Jun raises his eyebrows pointedly.  
  
“That’s not the point.”  
  
“So what is the point then? And why take photos of every meal you eat, even when it’s something you have often? There’s three pictures of omurice here from just the past two weeks.”  
  
Sho doesn’t, in fact, take photos of every meal he eats but he doesn’t say that.  
  
“The point is just to keep a record of important things, mundane or not. It’s not that complicated: I like to go back and remember all the little details, like how we were out of eggs last week but you went to the store and bought more because Wednesday is omurice day.”  
  
“Omurice is important to you?”  
  
“It can be.”  
  
Jun frowns slightly and hands the phone back to Sho.  
  
“And me?”  
  
Sho stills. His phone feels oddly fragile in his hands, as if it might slip out and clatter to the floor at any moment.  
  
“Of course you are.”  
  
“But not enough for any pictures in your phone?”  
  
A beat. Jun is typically expressive, can’t keep his emotions from scrawling openly across his face, but sometimes he manages to be dangerously inscrutable to Sho.  
  
(Nino says that it’s just because Sho is obtuse, but he thinks that’s a grossly unfair judgement.)  
  
“I wasn’t sure if it would be okay with you.”  
  
Jun pushes his fork at a piece of toast on his plate. Its eggs again: Western-style today. Jun has only cut a single piece out of one of his perfectly poached eggs; golden yolk spills a thick mess over the edges buttery toast.  
  
Sho’s own plate remains untouched, growing cold.  
  
“You can take pictures of me if you want. I don’t mind.”  
  
He’s still holding his phone in his hand. Slowly lifts it up, thumb swiping over the camera shortcut.  
  
“Not now.” Jun’s tone is exasperated with just a hint of fond amusement. “Your breakfast will get cold. Eat.”  
  
Sho’s eggs are on the wrong side of lukewarm but he eats every last mouthful, unable to quite keep some crumbs from spilling thanks to the smile that won’t leave his face.  
  
  
x  
  
  
It only takes a week for Jun to get fed up.  
  
“I am trying to work, you do realise?”  
  
His brows are furrowed deep behind the thick frames of his glasses, a concerted effort to ignore the phone hovering right in front of his face.  
  
Sho snaps another picture. “I like seeing the studious side of Matsujun.”  
  
“Aren’t there things you should be doing?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
It’s true: Sho has a blessedly free Sunday, which he already intends to spend in the laziest way possible. He’s wearing his oldest, most comfortable pair of sweats in preparation, the ones that Jun threatens to burn (because donating them apparently wouldn’t qualify as an act of charity) every second week but never does.  
  
“So you’re just planning to sit there all morning and watch me work? Seems dull.”  
  
Sho hadn’t been planning that at all. He’d been envisioning a perfect day of lounging around with Jun, taking a late afternoon walk with Jun, having sex on every available surface in the apartment with Jun.  
  
He hadn’t really factored in the idea that Jun might have other plans.  
  
It’s fine; he can wait. Sho knows it won’t take too much longer of him sitting there, distracting Jun, before he abandons whatever he’s doing for Sho. He’s not quite that strong-willed.  
  
“I’m thinking of starting a collection.” Sho rests his head on his knee, propped up on the chair beneath him. “Make an exhibition of it. Show the world the many sides of the amazing Matsumoto Jun.”  
  
Jun looks at him. He seems caught somewhere between annoyance and laughter, before settling on what Sho wants to assume is helplessly fond. “I don’t think anyone wants to see that.”  
  
“Sure they do. It’s going to be an _international sensation_.”  
  
Sho says the last part in English because he know it will make Jun laugh and it does, eyes sparkling and mouth splitting wide open even as he tries to hold back.  
  
Jun looks back down and returns to his work but he can’t wipe away the smile from his face, laughter threatening to bubble forth from his lips again.  
  
Sho leans forward and takes another picture. It’s perfect.  
  
  
x  
  
  
“Do you want to take a picture right now?”  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Jun--”  
  
“Or maybe I should be the one to take a picture? Start a collection of my own, show everyone just how pretty your face is like this, how desperate you are when you’re on your knees and begging, crying out for me to touch you.”  
  
“Seriously, Jun, I-- _ah_.”  
  
Jun laughs loudly and Sho wrenches him down to shut him up.  
  
(He takes one picture, when Jun is asleep: just his back, loosely covered by a sheet, face pressed against his pillow and mouth slightly parted. He doesn’t think Jun needs to know.)  
  
  
x  
  
  
Sho has always been well aware of how people see him. 'Mr. Perfect' Aiba calls him once, only half in jest, and it’s not the first someone has referred to him with a nickname like that, looking at him and seeing nothing but _good family, good school, good job, good life._  
  
He knows he’s far from perfect. That he almost became a disappointment to his family, veering off the path that should have been so easy for him to follow. That his temper got him into trouble on far too many occasions, with work, with relationships, with Jun, until he learned how to keep it in check. That there are many things that he just fundamentally lacks the talent for, that others can excel in areas where he doesn’t, and hard work isn’t always enough to eliminate every weakness.  
  
Cooking is one of those things. He thinks he’s lucky to have Jun to save him from endless nights of takeout dinners and his own mediocre attempts to make something at least edible.  
  
Lucky for a lot more than that, he knows.  
  
Jun’s right hand is strong and sure where it grips the knife, dicing garlic with quick, precise movements. It’s always hypnotising to watch--Sho isn’t allowed in the kitchen while Jun is cooking, but he sits on a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter and drinks a glass of wine while he tells Jun about his day.  
  
He remembers how he used to dream of having the perfect family: a beautiful wife who would cook him dinner, their happy laughter filling the room as they ate. He wonders if such a scene would look anything like this; whether he would have sat by her and watched as she prepared meals for the two of them  
  
Sho knows he’s long past such dreams but he thinks Jun is by far the better choice.  
  
Jun catches him staring and pauses what he’s doing, a small frown on his face. “What? Too much garlic?”  
  
Sho shakes his head. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”  
  
Jun flushes slightly, face shifting uncomfortably, and Sho laughs. It’s always fun to make Jun feel embarrassed.  
  
He slides off the stool and wanders into the kitchen. Jun immediately moves to stop him, his body creating a barrier to prevent Sho’s path.  
  
“Out.”  
  
“Relax, I’m just getting a glass of water.” Jun doesn’t move, still frowning. “Come on, I’m not going to ruin anything just by being in here. I’m not actually cursed.”  
  
Jun doesn’t look convinced but he moves aside. He watches Sho carefully as he takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water.  
  
Sho takes a small sip and places the glass down on the counter. He knows Jun is waiting for him to leave but it’s hard not to want to tease him when he looks so serious.  
  
“You know,” Sho says, inching slowly into Jun’s space, “you’re very sexy when you cook.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
Jun’s body is stiff when Sho curls his hands around his hips but he doesn’t push him away. It’s enough incentive for Sho to lean closer and whisper his next words almost directly into Jun’s mouth, pitching his voice low.  
  
“It’s very distracting.”  
  
Jun licks his lips. “I think you’re the one who’s distracting.”  
  
Sho’s not really listening anymore, just waiting for Jun to break, watching as Jun’s eyes grow darker with every second that Sho continues to hover just in front of him.  
  
He doesn’t have to wait long. Jun’s mouth is sticky and sweet with red wine.  
  
When they finally get around to dinner, the pasta is too soft and the sauce is marred by the sharp taste of raw garlic. Sho still eats every last bite on his plate with a pleased smile, but Jun looks unhappy and grumbles under his breath.  
  
“ _Kitchen curse_.”  
  
  
x  
  
  
There are inevitable consequences to stuffy, peak-hour train rides and consecutive days spent working long hours when the worst of winter is beginning to hit. Sho can feel it coming: the airy buzzing in his head, the thickness starting to coat his throat.  
  
He drags himself out of bed after he can’t hit snooze on his phone alarm any longer and stumbles heavily into the living room. The sound of frying tells him that Jun is already up and cooking something but he can’t smell what it is, nose too stuffy and blocked.  
  
Jun looks at him from over the kitchen counter and frowns.  
  
“You’re sick.”  
  
Sho waves a limp hand in protest. “I’m fine.”  
  
It would have been more convincing if his voice sounded less like a tractor spitting up gravel and his eyes weren’t already watering at the bright light filtering into the apartment.  
  
Jun turns off the stove and moves over to Sho with quick, determined steps. “You’re going back to bed.”  
  
“I have to work.”  
  
“Not today.”  
  
Jun’s hands feel so nice when they start guiding Sho back to bed and only then does he realise just how weak he feels, struggling not to sink against Jun completely and let himself be carried.  
  
The mattress is a comforting relief when his body hits it and he instantly curls up into the sheets, feeling the pounding in his head settle down through his body. He’s only dimly aware of Jun pulling the blankets over to cover him, already sinking to a deep sleep.  
  
He wakes to sharp pain behind his eyes and a burning sensation in his throat.  
  
It’s more than a struggle to push himself up into a sitting position, feeling dizzy and disconcerted. There’s a glass of water on the table beside him, condensation pooling where it touches the wood, and Sho reaches unsteadily to take it, almost spilling some of it as he does.  
  
The water tastes strangely unpleasant when it hits the back of his throat and Sho almost gags.  
  
Jun must have supernatural powers because he’s in the bedroom within seconds, moving quickly to take the glass from Sho’s hand as he starts coughing, harsh and bitter.  
  
He tries to calm himself so he can speak. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”  
  
“I left early. It’s already after three.”  
  
Jun reaches for a bottle of medicine on the bedside table and pops the cap open, shaking a tablet out into his hand, before passing it over to Sho with the glass of water. It’s not easy to swallow, sticking uncomfortably to the sides of Sho’s throat.  
  
Jun takes the glass back when he’s done and Sho thanks him, voice still raspy and strained.  
  
“I took care of work. They’ll want you back tomorrow, so better rest up and take plenty of medicine today.”  
  
Jun’s tone is dispassionate but his face is drawn into a look of intense concern and his hand is a comforting warmth on Sho’s arm. He tightens his fingers against the skin for a moment and draws away.  
  
“Go back to sleep. I’ll make you tea and something to eat.”  
  
Sho smiles. “I think I could kiss you right now.”  
  
“Please don’t.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Sho sinks back down into his pillow, eyelids drifting heavily shut. He’s just about to let them close completely when he feels Jun’s fingers touch his forehead, brushing away some of his hair.  
  
“You need to take care of yourself better.”  
  
Jun stays there a little longer, his fingers slowly stroking the side of Sho’s face until his breathing steadies and he starts falling back into asleep.  
  
He’s still awake enough to feel warm lips press gently to his forehead before Jun disappears.  
  
  
x  
  
  
Sho thinks he could draw clearly defined lines between their possessions in the apartment. Products clustered next to each other in the bathroom vanity, CDs and DVDs in a cabinet highlighting their vastly different tastes, a dresser piled with Jun’s accessories and a smaller collection for Sho to one side. The kitchen is all Jun--Sho only lays claim to one favourite mug--but the study is his. He leaves two shelves at the bottom of a bookcase free, and they soon become full of an odd assortment of hardcover photography books and select well-worn manga paperbacks.  
  
Clothes are separated into three drawers each, two halves of the wardrobe, different boxes in storage for the overflow. Laundry is the only time they mix, but soon enough sorted into two neat piles, ready for return to their separate compartments.  
  
He can’t find a shirt one day, the lightweight, grey button-down he’d planned to wear out to dinner with Jun. Flicks through his shirts hanging up in the closet, rummages through his drawers, checks both the laundry hamper and the washing machine twice, but there’s no sign of it anywhere.  
  
He’s just looking through the wardrobe again when he reaches the point where his clothes end and Jun’s begin and he stills. Looks at Jun’s clothes hidden on the other side, considering for a second, before he steps back and moves over to open the second set of wardrobe doors.  
  
His shirt isn’t there either.  
  
Sho frowns and closes the doors slowly. He walks over to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, gripping the edge of the towel still slung around his waist where it threatens to slide off his hips.  
  
Jun keeps his top drawer full of hats and sunglasses (Sho still doesn’t understand why anyone needs a drawer just for accessories) and the bottom contains underwear and socks, so the middle is Sho’s only option. He has to be careful while he sorts through the pile of shirts so not to disturb their neatly-folded state, only lifting the corners in search of light grey cotton.  
  
Sho has no luck, but his thumb catches on a cashmere sweater, so soft against his skin. He moves the shirts on top of it aside and just looks at it for a second. Remembers Jun wearing it on a rainy day spent curled up on the couch watching movies, the way it hung loosely on his solid frame. His complaints when Sho tried to pull it off him, pushing him aside so he could remove it himself and hang it carefully over the back of a chair.  
  
It smells like Jun when he lifts it up to his face. Sharp notes of his cologne dulled by a faint hint of cigarette smoke.  
  
Before Sho can think about what he’s doing, he pulls the sweater on over his head, letting it settle onto his shoulders and fall down his body. It’s warm. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room and moves to get a better look.  
  
The material sits awkwardly on his shoulders where it’s been stretched to fit Jun. Sho tries pushing his shoulders up, straightening them as much as he can, but it looks only marginally improved. He’s still wearing a towel around his waist, creating a strange picture, so he looks at the pile of fresh laundry still sitting out to put away and grabs a pair of briefs (his own) and jeans (Jun’s) from off the top.  
  
It’s odd to turn around and see Jun’s clothes on his body, like a poor imitation. The jeans have a strange red patch on one leg that matches the sweater perfectly and he wonders if Jun picked them out purposefully. It’s more than likely, knowing Jun.  
  
His curiosity has already taken him this far, so Sho moves back to the dresser, opening the top drawer this time, and selects one of the hats. A fedora made of black felt. It doesn’t suit him.  
  
“What is this? Cosplay?”  
  
Sho doesn’t know how missed the sound of the front door opening or Jun’s footsteps padding through the apartment but he’s standing there in the doorway, looking at Sho with amusement dancing across his features.  
  
“Ah...”  
  
Sho doesn’t know how to explain himself.  
  
“Is this what you get up to when I’m not here?”  
  
“No. I, uh, couldn’t find my shirt.” Sho can’t fault Jun for the way he reacts to that, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Sorry. I’m just going to change.”  
  
“Wait.” Jun reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. “I think this counts as an important memory for me.”  
  
Sho doesn’t really have a choice but to stand there while Jun has his fun, feeling that it’s probably deserved. He still pouts unhappily and that just seems to make Jun more amused, grinning as he takes pictures with his phone.  
  
“That hat really doesn’t look good on you.”  
  
Sho frowns and pulls the hat off his head. “Okay, can I change now? I think that’s enough pictures.”  
  
Jun shrugs. “You can wear that if you like, I don’t mind. Just...” He moves to Sho’s side of the wardrobe and frowns at it for a second before pulling out a black jacket. “Here. Wear this on top.”  
  
Sho takes the jacket from Jun, feeling confused. He had been sure Jun would have been annoyed at the idea of Sho wearing his clothes. “Are you sure?”  
  
“You look nice.” Jun cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he looks at Sho. “Are you even wearing a shirt under that sweater?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He smirks. “Good.”  
  
  
x  
  
  
“Hey. Take a picture with me.”  
  
They’re walking through Hibiya Park, past the fountain; a detour on their way to breakfast. It’s freezing cold and Jun complained bitterly about the early hour but Sho insisted they make the most of their free morning. Both of them have been too busy to see much of each other lately and Sho is tired of feeling like he’s missing someone he shares a home with.  
  
Jun frowns. The wind keeps whipping his hair across his face and his nose is turning red from the cold.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Sho looks around and takes hold of Jun’s arm. “Please?”  
  
Jun sighs and allows Sho to pull him over to stand in front of the fountain, moving in close as he lifts his phone up to find the right angle.  
  
The first picture is terrible. Jun is still frowning and Sho couldn’t quite keep his arm steady enough, resulting in his chin disappearing out of the frame.  
  
He turns to Jun with his most imploring look. “Smile, Jun. Please? I promise we’ll go to breakfast right after this.” He holds eye contact with him for a few seconds until Jun nods and Sho moves back into position with new determination.  
  
The next picture isn’t anything special, but Jun is smiling and they’re both in frame together, so Sho is more than happy enough.  
  
  
x  
  
  
Early morning is Jun’s least favourite time of day but Sho always likes it the most.  
  
He likes the pleasantly stiff feeling in his muscles when he first awakes, an immediate reminder of the previous night’s activities. He likes taking a few minutes to recall the details that got lost during his hazy rush to orgasm, pulling together flashes of Jun’s face, Jun’s hands, Jun’s voice calling his name.  
  
Most of all, he likes that he almost always wakes before Jun, allowing him an unrestricted view of the body next to him wrapped peacefully in slumber. He likes looking over at Jun’s back, tracing the strong lines that taper from broad shoulders, so steady and smooth, and at the little wisps of hair on his neck, the way they curl at the base. Or, when he’s lucky, Jun’s face, slack and soft where it presses against the pillow, nothing to stop Sho from trying to count the dark eyelashes that fan thickly under his eyelids.  
  
He’s lucky today. The telltale feeling of Jun’s breath hits his cheek before Sho even manages to open his eyes. He turns his face and finds himself just short of Jun’s lips, chapped and slightly parted. It’s a smaller gap than usual and Sho wonders if the cold got to him, making him shift in closer for warmth as he slept.  
  
It’s still incredibly cold. The more Sho wakes, the more he can feel it, sending goosebumps running down his arms and he shivers. Sho wore thick socks to sleep but he knows Jun wouldn’t have. He always says he can’t sleep with them on, just kicks them off if he tries.  
  
Sho moves his feet across the bed until he finds cold, bony ankles, slides them down to capture Jun’s feet between the soft wool of his socks. Jun shifts and their knees knock together, barely avoiding the painful jab of bone on bone.  
  
It’s enough to cause a frown to flit over Jun’s face, eyebrows drawing together, before his eyes slowly drift open.  
  
“Sorry.” Sho’s voice comes a soft whisper that fans through the gap and settles on Jun’s lips.  
  
Jun swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing deep to the base of his throat. “It’s okay.” He shifts and a lock of hair falls over his forehead, suspended in an awkward curl. Sho watches the individual strands slowly separate. “You’re very close.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jun might hate mornings but he’s the most beautiful like this. Unguarded and unreserved, soft morning sunlight spilling over the lines of his face.  
  
“Do you want to take pictures of this too?”  
  
Sho smiles. “No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“I don’t want anyone else to get a chance to see you like this. Macchan’s waking face is mine alone.”  
  
Jun blinks heavily, unable to hold his eyes open. It’s still too early for him, and Sho reaches a hand up to stroke the side of face gently, lulling him back into sleep.  
  
  
x  
  
  
They move eventually. Across town into an apartment that’s just a little bit nicer, a little bit bigger, a little bit closer to work.  
  
It takes some time for them to unpack everything, both too busy at first to spend the time figuring out where everything will fit. They spend the first week living out of boxes, eating meals around the coffee table on the floor while they wait for their new dining set to be delivered.  
  
The first thing Sho does after the movers have left on that very first day is to find the bag that contains something he prepared for this very moment. Pulls out a plastic file protecting a photographic print and sticks it on the back of the front door.  
  
It’s the picture he took at the park that day: both of them smiling awkwardly at the camera, faces flushed with cold and sunlight causing them to squint.  
  
Jun steps up behind Sho when he’s done and stops.  
  
“Really? You want to put that picture up?”  
  
Sho turns to him and smiles. It seems to catch Jun off guard because his eyes widen for a moment before softening and he doesn’t move back when Sho moves towards him, sliding his hands around Jun’s waist.  
  
“Yeah. Feels like home now.”


End file.
